The Hologram of Trenzalore
by garfieldodie
Summary: AU of 'Rimmerworld' and TOTD - Rimmer's escape pod is spat out of a wormhole and winds up landing on Trenzalore, where he finds himself the Doctor's unwilling companion until his crewmates can rescue him - in about 600 years...
1. Arriving on the Planet

**Author's Note:** _I've been wanting to write a Red Dwarf / Doctor Who crossover for some time now, but I couldn't think of a decent plot to make it work, but recently, this little plot-bunny set up camp in my head, and since I have a little time, I thought this'd be fun. What if Rimmer's escape pod in "Rimmerworld" had instead taken him to Trenzalore, right when the Doctor's arrival on Christmas starts, and he ends up becoming his companion for the next 900 years.  
_

* * *

Rimmer desperately got out the last thing he would say to his crewmates for at least another eight lifetimes. It was absolutely vital they know exactly what he thought of them.

"You are total, total, complete and utter, total, total, complete and utter bunch of bastards!" he snapped.

He wasn't sure whether or not the whole message had gotten through. Their smirking faces had dissolved into static and interference. The escape pod began to shake and wobble as it expected the usual turbulence from the wormhole. How they hadn't noticed the wormhole last time they were here was beyond him. The shaking started getting worse, so he strapped himself in, gripping the armrest with one hand and grinding his Chinese Worry Balls with the other.

This was all Lister's fault, the miserable goit. He'd been sneaking around their backs and lying to them for a week, hiding the fact that _Starbug_ had a damaged reverse fuel tank so he wouldn't cause any alarm. The way he'd admitted it – like it was the most obvious course of action. Lie to your crewmates about the ominous danger they were in instead of discussing the matter and working out a slightly more sane course of action that _didn't_ involve endangering everyone's lives by trapping them in a collapsing Simulant death ship – _of course_ that's what you do, Listy, you simpering walking undergrowth. You're _such_ a wonderful hero, Listy. Now I'm stuck on an escape pod traveling through a wormhole, destined to spend at most six hundred years on my own, stranded and likely to go stark raving mad, you fetid son of a whoremonger's bitch.

Rimmer didn't want to admit this was his own fault. He'd had a perfect opportunity to save his crewmates from that Simulant. Just fire the bazookoid and blast it apart. Instead, he'd spent his time trying to get into the escape pod. Still, the ship-quake caused during its launch had given them the distraction necessary to escape with the teleporter – which, okay, Rimmer hadn't _really_ planned, but he didn't care one way or the other – so he didn't see what they'd been so snippy about. As far as he was concerned, he'd saved them from death.

The pod continued to groan and shudder the entire trip through the wormhole, and all he could think about was how massively unfair this was. His would-be "heroics" had only gotten him, as Kryten would put it, up Diarrhea Drive without a saddle. That rotten droid – it was his fault, too. He should've put his foot down with Lister and refused to let Rimmer onboard the Simulant ship. Then the others would've all been killed by the Simulant, and he'd have been able to escape in _Starbug_. It was just so unfair that he'd been stuck in this mess.

The rumbling and vibrations got worse, and he wasn't sure how he'd be able to endure all this. But then there was an even louder rumbling that bounced him around, making him wonder if this is what a pinball feels like when the pinball machine is being put through an industrial-sized tumble dryer. He managed to keep his innards on the inside – not that he had any – before managing to look at the tiny monitor that passed for an onboard computer. The end of the wormhole was coming up. It was almost time to enter normal space. Just a few more seconds to go and…

The shaking finally ceased into a low rumble, and he continued to grind the balls to calm his nerves. He couldn't see anything outside. The pod had no windshield. Swallowing heavily to keep the bile down, he reached over and tapped a couple of commands on the monitor. The pod was designed to home in on the nearest S3 planet. He wasn't hopeful, but maybe he'd luck out and find a planet with life.

To his surprise, however, when he opened the monitor, he saw that there was some sort of transmission trying to get through. Was someone on the planet trying to contact him? Feeling a surge of excitement, he stabbed the transmission button. "Hello?" he asked hopefully. "This is Arnold J Rimmer of the Jupiter Mining Corporation transport vehicle _Starbug_. Am currently in an escape pod about to crash land on the planet's surface. Please assist. Over."

Releasing the call button, he pressed the one next to it to hear the return transmission. The reply was not what he thought it would be. It was a very strange ghostly noise. Three tones gurgling away in a repeating cycle. His eyebrows collided in confusion. He had no idea what it was, but something in the pit of his stomach told him to be very scared. Pressing a few buttons here and there, he deactivated it and checked out the navigation computer to see where he was going.

There was definitely a planet ahead, and the transmission was definitely coming from it. He looked closer and saw something that made his stomach do backflips. There were other ships surrounding it. Lots of them. And from what he could determine, most of them were armed to the teeth. What would they make of him puttering by in his one man pod? Maybe they'd mistake him for a small family traveling to Sunday mass?

A few zoomed around him, but none attacked him. No one was fighting. They were just parked in orbit. What was that about? He couldn't figure out who they were. The pod couldn't scan for ident details, so he didn't know if they were hostile or not.

Moot point. He was now accelerating towards the planet. Crossing his fingers he'd landed in something soft, he clenched the balls and closed his eyes.

There was a loud crash as he was violently tossed around. He held on tight and yelled out in a much undignified manner, tumbling like a bowling ball. He lost his grip on the balls and settled for just hugging himself until he felt he might dislocate his shoulders in the process. After a few more seconds of rolling, he finally came to a stop, the pod having come to a rest on the planet, wherever it was.

He decided it was safe to open his eye.

When he did, he found that he was upside down. Grumbling to himself, he reached over and slapped the door button. Once the computers decided he was in a safe location, the pod doors slid open, revealing a night sky filled with fascinating stars and a blizzard sweeping across the ground. Without thinking, he undid his safety harness and promptly fell headfirst into the snowbank.

Staggering his way out into the night air, his teeth chattering from the cold, he hugged himself tightly for warmth and climbed out of the pod into the woods he'd arrived in. He tried to see if there was anywhere to go, but there didn't seem to be any sign of life. He looked back at the pod. He poked his head inside and saw the worry balls sitting on the floor. Looking at them disparagingly, he nevertheless scooped them up again.

He threw a glance at the transmitter again, and he saw the message was still coming. Irritated, he turned it back on, hoping maybe it had cleared up, and when he listened, he was very startled. The ghostly wail had now become a male voice speaking perfect English.

" _Doctor who…? Doctor who…? Doctor who…? Doctor who…? Doctor who…?_ "

Rimmer just stared at it blankly. What on Io was it gibbering about?

After waiting about a minute to see if anything else would be said – and there wasn't – he switched it off and decided to get walking. He had to get out of these woods and see if there was any sign of civilization. Maybe someone could help him repair the pod and get back through the wormhole? Clapping his arms for warmth, he staggered out of the pod and back into the woods.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** _Just a little something to get us started. Going to develop this more in the weeks to come. I imagine once the next semester starts up, I'll be looking for distractions, so hopefully, this'll help me._


	2. Meeting the Sheriff of Christmas

He'd been struggling through the snowy forest for two days, and this damn snow hadn't stopped falling. After so many years as a soft-light hologram – with no senses save for smell, for some reason – he had been thrilled to be upgraded to hard-light. All his sensations had been returned, with the added bonus of being nigh indestructible – not that he was any more willing to put himself in danger. As far as he was concerned, now that he had a body again, he was more determined than ever to protect himself.

Rimmer's teeth hadn't stopped chattering for the past ten hours. If it weren't for their indestructability, he'd have probably ground them down by now. However, his hard-light drive couldn't be damaged, so he couldn't escape the cold through death, meaning he basically had a perpetual case of hypothermia. He had no choice but to keep walking, no matter how much it hurt. He figured there had to be a way out of the woods at some point. The whole planet couldn't be just trees, right? Surely the sun would come out from behind the clouds one of these days?

Now that he thought about it, there hadn't been any indication as to whether or not the sun had come out. There had to be some sun somewhere out there.

He climbed over some boulders and was depressed beyond words to see yet more trees. With pain coursing through his bare fingers, he pulled the worry balls out of his pocket to calm himself down. Worry was the only thing really hurting his light bee at the moment. He had to keep himself going.

He was just climbing over a fallen tree when he heard something in the distance. It sounded like a voice. Very distant and faint, but it was definitely a voice. In fact, it seemed to be accompanied by several other voices. They were all reverberating across the woods, rebounding their sound waves against the trees and into Rimmer's half-frozen ears. He slumped against the log in wonder. Could it be? Had he really landed on a planet with life?

But what if they weren't friendly? What if they were the sort who'd kill him on sight? What if they were a roaming gang of technophobes who wouldn't hesitate to destroy an electronic life form? What if they were Anti-Deadies who would discriminate against him because he was dead? What if they found his blue jacket unfashionable?

His jacket wasn't the only thing that was blue, thanks to the permanent blizzard. He didn't have a choice. Even if these people were unfavorable to his plight, at least they'd probably take him somewhere warm. He tried to summon his voice and rally a call for help – something he'd done a lot of in his life – but he hadn't used his voice in almost two days, and he felt like his vocal chords were frozen.

"H-h-h-h-hello-o-o-o…?" he stuttered. "O-o-o-over here…!"

Naturally, no one heard him.

Cursing under his breath, he resumed his hunchback staggering. Since his light bee wasn't letting him croak from frostbite, maybe it would sustain him all the way to the voices. Listening carefully, he lurched through the trees, determined to survive and get a hot toddy somewhere.

The next forty minutes were spent stumbling and crawling across the snow. His fingers wanted to cede from his hands and abandon him, thanks to being so cold. The snow was beginning to build on his head and shoulders. He had gone so numb at this point that he couldn't tell how much he was accumulating. He looked like someone with a serious dandruff problem.

Still, the voices sounded nearby at this point, and beyond the trees, he thought he saw lights flickering. Perhaps some sort of civilization?

He stopped to rest under a particularly large tree, spending the next ten minutes summoning all his strength. He wanted to get this right. Once certain his voice would perform on cue, he took a deep breath and yelled out.

"HELLO? HELP ME!"

The shout took so much energy out of him that he slumped against the tree, struggling for breath that he technically didn't need. He peered out through his half-frozen eyelids to see if it had gotten a result. So far, nothing.

He was pondering going for another try, figuring it would be another ten minutes before he would have the strength, but after seven minutes and contemplating life as an ice sculpture, he heard footsteps. Lots of them. It was like a crowd was coming out into the woods. Perhaps a rescue party?

Rimmer sat up a little straighter, shaking some of the snow off. He saw some lights dancing and swaying as they came running in. It _was_ a crowd. The lights were torches they were carrying. He felt a glimmer of hope. He was in with a chance now.

The people that came running up were men and women of varying ages. They didn't seem to see him at first until he shifted, and they saw him, covered in snow and looking _very_ uncomfortable in his current state. Some shined their lights on him and began chattering.

"Good grief, it's a man!"

"Oh my god, look at him! Is he okay?"

"Hello? Sir? Are you okay? We heard a shout. Was that you?"

Rimmer managed to nod ever so slightly. It shifted some of the snow off of him, and they could see how blue he was looking.

"Look at him! He must have frostbite!"

"But who is he? How do we know he's not one of those creatures…?"

"Then we'll take him to the Doctor. He said he would deal with the creatures in the sky."

"So you've decided you trust him then?"

"Might as well. After that woman's face appeared in the sky…"

"Look, either way, this man's dying. We need to warm him up straight away. Come on."

That voice leaned in closer, and Rimmer made out that he was a young man with a beard and dressed heavily for the cold. He leaned in close. "Sir, are you injured? Broken bones? Lacerations? Anything?"

Rimmer shook his head. "N… _no_ …," he stuttered. "N-n-n-not… injured."

"Good." He turned to the rest of the people. "Come on. Give us a hand."

They gathered around him and began to list him out of the snow, allowing him to lean on them as they dragged him limply through the woods.

Rimmer was too cold to articulate any kind of gratitude or kissing up. He'd start getting on their good side as soon as he had his voice back at full operating capacity. He'd heard the word 'doctor' again. Remembering the strange transmission, he pondered to himself. Maybe this doctor was in charge. That was probably the person he should start smarming up to. It's what he always did to people who were in charge – show unwavering respect so they'd like him and promote him and give him whatever he wanted. Okay, fine, it never actually worked with Captain Hollister on _Red Dwarf_ but what the hell, this wasn't a ship. This was a world.

He came out of his plans as he looked up and saw that they were entering a town. It was a quaint little village, but it clearly had some kind of technology from all the fairy lights. The place was lit with twentieth-century-styled street lamps, with open streets with no automobiles of any sort – just ordinary people walking around in parkas and enjoying the night.

The people took Rimmer towards a large building in the middle of town – it was a large clock tower that loomed over them. The bulk of them waited at the bottom of the steps while one of them went up to the large double doors and knocked. To the hologram's surprise, they were answered by a little boy wearing a parka and snow cap.

"What's up?" he asked inquiringly.

"Tell him we found a man in the woods. He was half-buried in a snowbank, but we've never seen him before. We think the Doctor should meet him – see what his story is, you know?"

The boy looked down and saw Rimmer, regarding him for a few moments before he nodded, holding up a finger to indicate they should wait before disappearing behind the doors.

Rimmer felt ridiculous waiting for a child to decide whether or not he was important enough to be seen by this mysterious 'Doctor'. He felt a bit better being around people, but he still wanted to get by a fire and get some feeling back in his body.

Moments later, the doors opened, and the boy reappeared. "Bring him in. He's in the basement."

"Still looking into that crack?"

"Yep."

The man shrugged and motioned for his fellows to bring Rimmer inside.

Rimmer sighed with relief as they helped him up the steps and guided him through the building. They got him through the twisting corridors until they came down a spiral staircase that took them into the basement. He looked around in curiosity at the contents of the room. Seemed to be a standard basement, save for an antique lamp light the place up, an old chair and a few boxes and supplies lining the walls.

There was also a man in the room wearing a long purple coat standing before what appeared to be a glowing crack in the wall. It looked like a crooked disfigured grin with ethereal light pouring out of it, unnerving Rimmer for some reason.

"Doctor…?" the man said. "We found this man in the snow. We've never seen him anywhere before, but we think he needs to be warmed up quickly."

The man in question slowly turned around. To Rimmer's surprise, he was very young. Comically young. Couldn't be more than thirty. He had an angular face with a mop of floppy brown hair, a pronounced chin and a bow tie. How the hell was this git the leader of the town? He didn't even look like he could shave.

However, when he bent over and looked him in the eye, Rimmer saw something in his eyes. There seemed a sort of intensity in them – like he was scanning every inch of his body, looking for weaknesses and any way he could tear him to shreds should he ever anger him.

The Doctor straightened and looked at the men. "Thank you," he said. "I'll tend to him. Please – resume your day."

The men looked uncertain. "Are you sure…?" the leader asked.

"Not to worry. He's not dangerous. Just chilly. I'll warm him up. Close the door on your way out."

Realizing his mind was made up, the men nodded in acceptance. "All right, if you say so." With nothing more to be said, they turned and left.

Now Rimmer was alone with this Doctor. He looked up at him uncertainly. He attempted a placating smile, but the other man just looked at him impassively. He knelt down and looked him in the eye.

"I want answers from you," he said simply. "And you're going to give them whether your like it or not. I'll warm you up, and then you'll tell me everything. Understood?"

Growing terrified, Rimmer nodded. He could only imagine the horrible torture this baby-faced goit was going to inflict on him. Perhaps if he started kneeling and chanting an allegiance of some sort, he'd get out of this alive.

The Doctor stood up and pulled a long cylindrical device out. He gave it a flick, and it sprung into a longer shape with four long prongs and a green light in the middle. Assuming it to be some sort of instrument of torture, Rimmer immediately flinched backwards and wished he wasn't so frozen he couldn't run away.

There was an electronic 'whirrr' and he felt his entire form ripple. All the sensations in his body disappeared, and he realized to his horror he'd somehow switched into his soft-light form. Looking down, he saw his uniform had changed from blue to red, confirming his fears. The snow promptly fell through his image and splattered on the floor, and in an instant, he felt better. The bitter numbness faded away into nothing.

Now he realized he had his mobility back, he leapt backwards and scooted away, terrified, looking for the door so he could escape.

"The door's shut, just so you know," the Doctor said, putting the device away.

Rimmer instinctively reached for the doorknob, but alas, his 2D hand passed right through it, and he cursed angrily. He turned and looked back at the young man, who simply stood on the other side of the room and crossed his arms, looking surprisingly intimidating.

"I surrender, totally and unequivocally!" Rimmer cried, holding up his hands to prove it. "I demand the rights and privileges of prisoners of war, in accordance to the All Nations Agreement under Article 39436175880932/B!"

The man's non-existent eyebrows rose in surprise before a bemused grin split across his face, and he began to snigger quietly. "So you're demanding that all the delegation attending the conference be allocated one car parking space?"

Rimmer's expression slowly collapsed in total embarrassment. "I meant… I meant stroke _C_ …," he clarified lamely.

"Ah, that's better. Non-violent constraint. Just as well. No car parks anywhere around here…"

Rimmer still huddled in the corner with his hands up, not sure where to go from here. He needed a story. Something convincing that would also make him look good. He thought it through. He was Captain Ace Rimmer – ladies' man, space astro. He'd taken a hit for his team and had been abandoned for dead, but had escaped and needed a place to stay. He'd try to focus on the Doctor's good looks to get a head start on kissing up to him, ensuring that he'd be protected for the next six hundred years.

Taking a deep breath, he gave his carefully crafted story. "I'm Arnold Judas Rimmer. I'm a vending machine repairman and one of the lowest-ranking crewmembers on the mining ship _Red Dwarf_. I abandoned my crewmates to save my own sorry arse in an escape pod when I could've saved them, and now I fell through a wormhole and, thanks to the time dilation, am now stuck here for six hundred years, so I need a place to stay. By the way, you've got dumb hair and your chin is ridiculous."

Almost instantly, his hand flew to his mouth. Where the hell had all _that_ come from?!

The Doctor just looked at him with a mixture of amusement and pity. "I'm afraid we're standing in a truth field. It _forces_ you to tell the truth, no matter what."

Rimmer felt his legs go limp. "Oh god, I'm screwed," he found himself saying, almost against his will.

"On the contrary, the truth is what will help you now more than ever. Let's start at the beginning. What happened that got you here?"

Rimmer kept his mouth clamped shut. If he couldn't lie, what was the point in talking? The truth would only bring shame to him, and there was no point in that. The only alternative was silence.

The Doctor just looked at him for a long time. "Well, let's see…," he said at last, reaching into his pocket. He began to pull out the device again.

Rimmer yelped and tried to shield himself. "My crewmates were about to be killed by a Simulant, so I thought I might as well abandon them, because what's the point in helping anyone if you're just going to get killed? Spare me, I'm a coward!" he wailed, sinking to his knees.

The Doctor blinked, somewhat bewildered by the cowering hologram. "I could've guessed that…" His device lit up and proceeded to run it up and down Rimmer, still making that irritating whirring noise. "Let's see… Jupiter Mining Corporation… Interesting…"

Rimmer looked up. "How'd you know _that_?"

"Scanned your projection unit. Interesting concept – projects the light from within instead of from an outside source, creating a perfect 3D image… Strange, though… The JMC went bankrupt before they even got a third ship in the air…"

"What? The JMC never went bankrupt."

"It didn't?"

Rimmer thought he'd upset him and quickly backpedaled. "I mean… I just don't know what you're talking about, your… grace? Your Lordship? Your… Doctor-y-ness?" He bowed his head in fearful respect.

"Stop that. I'm just the Doctor. And get up. You look ridiculous."

Rimmer winced. His attempts at kissing up weren't going so well. Business as usual, really.

The Doctor continued. "Anyway, from what I remember, the Jupiter Mining Corporation was planning to launch a fleet of mining ships into the Earth's Solar System and mine the asteroids for minerals… But their ships proved too costly, and they ended up going bankrupt after a few years."

Rimmer searched his mind, trying to remember his basic workplace history. He could just dimly recall something. He'd worked on _Red Dwarf_ for fourteen years – he must've absorbed _something_ useful. "I remember… the JMC ships were originally going to be fully-equipped to deal with space exploration… but they had to make a lot of cutbacks, which ended up in a bunch tramp steamers in space."

The Doctor considered this for a few moments, pacing up and down a bit before readdressing him. "You didn't just travel through a wormhole. You traveled through a hole in reality that must've taken you into an alternate timeline…"

Rimmer stared at him before grimacing and hiding his face in his hands. "Uggh…," he moaned, sounding as if he were in pain. "We never do anything by halves, do we…?"

"Your crew?"

"The word 'crew' wouldn't describe them accurately. More like 'ragtag band of numbskulls wandering around the universe until we all croak one by one'. Look, I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm just stuck here because of the time dilation around the wormhole or portal or whatever the hell it is."

"For how long?"

"Kryten said six hundred years, and even though he's an idiot with a head shaped like crushed beer can, he's usually right about these things."

The Doctor tucked his question away for later – the idea of such a person intrigued him. "So you need a place to stay?" he asked.

Rimmer looked at him with a dry expression. "Why, have you got a broom closet for rent?"

"No, but there are a few spare bedrooms in the clock tower. You're welcome to one of them. We can probably round you up some blankets."

Rimmer looked at him for a long time, clearly suspicious. "Why would you do that for me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you want something from me."

"You don't have anything I want."

"That doesn't matter. You'll find something."

The Doctor looked at him for a long time. "You're not very trusting, are you?"

"No," Rimmer replied automatically, wincing as the truth field forced him to speak.

"Well, let me tell you. I'm the Doctor, and you can trust me. I'm here to protect this world."

"Protect it? From what?"

"From my own mistakes."

Rimmer scowled. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Probably. But it's the truth. Now then, judging by the dark circles under your eyes, I notice that you're a bit sleepy. Haven't slept much since you got here, have you?"

"Er… well, no, I haven't slept in the last two days."

"Well, come on. I'll show you to one of the spare rooms."

The Doctor opened the door, which Rimmer irrationally considered an act of spite, mocking him for his lack of corporeality. He got to his feet and followed him up some stairs. They passed through the cement-lined walls until they came to a wooden door. Once again, the Doctor pulled it open, and they stepped inside.

The room was like a bunker. Just dull gray cinderblock walls with no decorations. Just a small table with a wooden chair, with a bed in the corner that had a dusty blanket. The Doctor went over and flapped it a couple of times to get it relatively clean and left it open for possible use. "There you are," he said amiably. "Feel free to get some sleep. Come down and see me when you're ready."

Rimmer could only stare incredulously. "Just like that? I don't have to leave a deposit or pay rent or anything?"

"Nope. Just get rid of those dark circles under your eyes." Then something occurred to him. "Oh, right. It might be better if you could actually sleep _in_ the bed, right?" He pulled the device back out of his coat pocket and pointed it at Rimmer.

The hologram felt a strange sensation and briefly wondered if he was being attacked, but then, all his sensations returned to him, and he could feel the cold air on him again, although it wasn't so bad inside the bunker of a bedroom. He looked down and saw that his uniform was blue again.

He looked at the device with considerable trepidation. "What the hell is that thing?"

"Sonic screwdriver," the Doctor replied, holding the device up with a pleased expression.

"… It looks like an overcomplicated sex toy."

The Doctor made a face and put it away. "Get to sleep, Arnold. It's a busy day tomorrow."

"Why? What's tomorrow?"

"Haven't the faintest. Terrifying, isn't it?"

And on that cryptic note, the Doctor turned and walked away, closing the door behind him.

Rimmer stared at the door for a long time before finally feeling the exhaustion catching up with him. Deciding he might as well take advantage of the hospitality offered to him, he unbuckled his jacket and slung it over the chair, and then kicked off his boots. He climbed into the bed, which had a very musty smell that indicated a lack of fabric softener. That damn mechanoid had really spoiled him over the years. He pulled the blanket over himself and laid his head on the pillow, which wasn't even remotely fluffy.

Still, he had to admit – after wandering around in the snow for two days, this was a step up. Of course, sleeping in an overflowing sewer in Holland would've been a step up from that, so he didn't think counting his blessings was necessary. He could only try dropping off, wondering what he would do for the next few centuries.

That Doctor, though… Something was fishy about him. Probably some spoiled brat who'd gone on a tear and taken over a town. Probably had it in his head he was fit to be a leader, the baby-faced git. Hopefully, Rimmer would be able to usurp him one day and take over. Being the ruler of a planet sounded good to him – much more impressive than running a ship crewed by a cleaning droid, a moronic cat and the slobbiest idiot in the universe.

But then he remembered the crack in the wall… Something about it just made him uneasy…

Unhappily, he dropped off to sleep.


	3. A Meeting with the Mother Superious

The next morning, it was still dark out, so Rimmer didn't quite register that it was morning. But he wasn't tired anymore, so he figured it was close enough. It was chilly, but it wasn't as cold as you'd expect a rundown old clock tower to feel. He rolled over in bed and kicked off the blanket, shivering a bit, but it wasn't unbearable. He pulled his boots over and slipped them on, and then he pulled his blue jacket off the chair and buckled it back up.

Content that he looked presentable enough, he decided it was time to get some answers. He'd given up important information to the Doctor, now it was time for him to do the same. He left his room and made his way downstairs until he found the basement, and he was greeted by the ethereal crack in the wall. It was still creeping him out, as if he could feel some sort of strange energy coming from it. He started to walk closer to it, but his natural cowardice stopped him.

Remembering why he'd come here, he looked around. "Doctor…?"

"The Doctor is not present at this time."

Rimmer jumped and turned to see something very disturbing in the old wooden chair. It was a silver robot head with empty black eyes, a slit for a mouth, no nose and weird handles on top. "What the hell?"

"The Doctor is not present at this time," the head repeated.

"What the hell are _you_ supposed to be?!"

"I am the dismembered head of a Cyberman. My organics have rotted away, but my databanks remain intact. The Doctor purchased me from the Maldovarium market and has utilized me for many tasks."

Rimmer just stared blankly. He hadn't followed a word of that.

"My codename is 'Handles'."

"Your codename? Why do you need a codename?"

"The Doctor said it would be more fun."

"… Is he an idiot?"

"Correction. The Doctor prefers the term 'madman'."

"Of course…"

"He awaits your company in town."

"Right. Fine. 'Handles'," Rimmer sighed, taking the time to roll his eyes dismissively. He didn't bother to ask _where_ in town the Doctor was. The further he got away from the talking head, the better.

He made it upstairs and exited through the large double doors, where he was immediately hit by the cold outside. Rubbing his arms for a moment, he scanned the square, not seeing anyone immediately around.

"Might as well take a walk," he grumbled to himself. He set off into the town and took in the scenery.

The place was a lot bigger than he'd expected. It was a bunch of standard Victorian-styled buildings, with continuous fairy lights and oil street lamps. There were also some large fields that stretched out around the town. He tried to see if anything was growing, but it looked mostly like snow. Then, he saw a few farmers come out in their wintry best with farming equipment. They noticed and waved in a friendly manner before setting to work.

Rimmer couldn't believe what he was seeing. Were they actually farming the snow?

Deciding this was a little too silly for him, he continued walking through town until he noticed something in the sky. It looked like a pod was coming down. He saw it was landing just past some buildings. Curious, he ran over to see what it was. Peeking around the corner, he saw it had settled in a wide open area.

And there was the Doctor, walking up to it, feeling it over and listening to the sides of it.

Relieved to have found him, Rimmer walked up. "Okay," he snapped. "What the hell is this?"

The Doctor turned around with a bright expression. "Ah, Arnold – was wondering when you were going to wake up! Come on! We're going in!"

"Going in where?"

The Doctor tapped the side of the pod, and with a hiss of steam, it slid open, revealing to leather seats inside and some controls.

"What's this?"

"A pod – sanctioned by the Church of the Papel Mainframe."

"The Church of what?"

"Big floaty church in the air. Come on. She wants to see us."

"What? Who?"

"Tasha Lem. Come on. Can't keep her waiting. You know how nuns are…"

The Doctor sat down in one of the seats, and he patted the other one eagerly. Rimmer could only stare at him incredulously before sighing in resignation. This idiot was the one in charge. He wasn't going to get anywhere not following orders. He climbed into the pod and sat down, and a moment later, the door slid shut, and they were bathed in mint green light. The pod rumbled as it took off once again.

"Can't we use this thing to fly me back through the wormhole?"

"Not a wormhole. Hole in reality. And no, we can't. It's preprogrammed my Tasha's clergy to take us directly to the Mainframe."

"Oh, great…"

"Not a big church goer?"

"Never. Don't believe in God."

"Well, don't worry. This is a pretty normal church. And don't worry – given the circumstances, we don't have to be naked."

"… Oh, good…"

They sat in silence of the rest of the journey. The Doctor checked over a few readouts, making sure their trip went well. Rimmer just crossed his arms and crammed himself further into the seat. He still couldn't lie, so he wasn't going to talk anytime soon.

Half an hour later, they finally felt the pod powering down, and a few moments later, there was a jolt of movement that indicated they'd docked with the Mainframe. There was a brief whirring noise as the hatch unlocked, and it hissed open with another cloud of steam.

They were greeted by two women, both of whom were wearing dark clothes with matching eye makeup that took up all their eyes.

"Welcome to the Papal Mainframe," they both said. "The Mother Superious will see you now."

The Doctor and Rimmer climbed out of the pod and into the space port. The Doctor didn't seem all that interested in their surroundings, but Rimmer cuoldn't help but marvel at the place. It was like a giant airplane hangar that was dimly lit in menacing colors.

"Smegging hell," he murmured.

"Arnold, please. We're in church," the Doctor lightly admonished.

They were led up a long and winding corridor until they came to a large room that was just a long strip of floor leading up to what looked like a throne room. If this was a church, it was the weirdest one Rimmer had ever seen. There were more people with similar outfits to the ones who had greeted them, plus soldiers wearing camouflage and fatigues, standing to attention. What really unnerved Rimmer, however, was the presence of a few bulbous headed creatures with empty eyes, slits for noses, and no mouths, wearing black suits. One of the held out a large misshapen hand to him and hissed a word to him.

" _Confess_ …"

"What the hell is that?" Rimmer whispered.

The Doctor followed his gaze. "That's a Silent… Or, it _will be_ a Silent… You don't feel an urge to kill it on sight, do you?"

"Er… not particularly."

"Hmmm… Interesting…"

Rimmer turned to say something, but then he immediately forgot what it was. "What's interesting?" he asked.

The Doctor just nodded knowingly. "Come on. Tasha's waiting."

They made it to the end of their long walk to the steps, at the top of which, a woman was standing. Same eye makeup, same clothes – which for all Rimmer knew were another uniform – and she was flanked by two soldiers – one male and one female.

"Doctor…," she said firmly.

"Mother Superious," he replied breezily.

"It's been four days. You still maintain your silence?"

"I do."

She regarded Rimmer critically. "Is this the owner of the pod?"

"It is. Well, sort of. He stole it, technically."

Rimmer winced.

Tasha looked pointedly at him. "Come forward, hologram."

Rimmer looked uncertainly at the Doctor, who just nodded at him, before approaching the woman. He had no idea what to do, so he curtseyed, then felt that wasn't enough and bowed a bit. He was too frightened to look her in the eye.

Probably for the best, because she leaned in close and glared at him. "How did you get through the force field?"

Rimmer blinked, looking up at her in confusion. "What force field?"

"The one surrounding the planet. The one preventing all hostile life forms from entering. We've held back Daleks, Cybermen, Draconians, Ice Warriors, Raxacoricofallapatorians, and then along comes this tiny little pod that just slips past and crashes into the planet without so much as a shot fired. How. Did. You. Get. In?" she finished with a hiss.

Rimmer could only shrug helplessly. "Er… I… don't know."

The Doctor cleared his throat. "If I may…?"

They both looked at him, which he took as his cue to speak.

"You put the force field up against hostile life forms. Hostile. Arnold's a non-hostile lifeform. Had no idea about the transmission through the crack. Just needed a place to kip until his crewmates rescue him in six hundred years."

Tasha considered this before nodding in acceptance. "I see… What will you do with him?" she asked, much to Rimmer's alarm.

The Doctor shrugged. "He's just a frightened hologram. Give him some time to settle in. Let him get comfortable. Then he can do what he wishes."

"Very well. Now then, Doctor – I don't suppose you'd be willing to listen to reason."

"I was hoping you would, too. Even if you torch the planet, the crack will still be there – it'll just be suspended in space."

"Torch the planet?!" Rimmer yelped.

"Yes, they want to roast the planet and everyone on it for the sake of preventing my people from getting through."

"You understand why, Doctor."

"Yes, you don't want another Time War erupting. I understand that."

"And if we don't destroy the planet, then all the creatures orbiting the planet will. At least our way, the people will die instantly as opposed to being tortured for decades."

"There will be no torture. No bloodshed. Not a single drop. Not while I'm on that planet."

She glared down at him. "Then I would advise you to get back down there," she replied shortly.

The Doctor nodded. "Come along, Arnold," he said, turning and leaving.

Rimmer was still reeling from the revelation that the planet he was stuck on was at risk of being completely destroyed at any moment. With a quick and hasty bow to Tasha, he turned and legged it up the walkway after the Doctor.

"They're going to flame the planet?!" he whispered furiously.

"Not if I can help it."

"That's not helping! Anyone can tell you don't know what you're doing! Young little twerp like you – you probably only got the training wheels off your bike last week!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Come on. Back to the pod."

"The pod? You mean we're actually going to go back down there?!"

"Where else?"

"Anywhere! I'd even take a trip to Doncaster over this! At least they're not at threat to be set on fire!"

"Arnold, I'm not going to let them flame the planet. I just told her that. Now come on."

* * *

The ride back down to Christmas had been an awkward one. Rimmer's right leg was constantly jiggling with anxiety. Now that he had some idea as to what was happening, he was scared stiff. He could feel his heart rate increasing already. He patted down his pockets and pulled out the Chinese worry balls and proceeded to discreetly grind them. He had to get himself under control. This was not relaxing in the slightest!

The pod touched down in the same field they'd departed in. Once they climbed out, Rimmer looked around and, as soon as he saw it, immediately started marching towards the woods.

"Arnold?" the Doctor called after him. "Where are you going?"

"Back to the escape pod. I don't know how, but I'm going to get it going again!"

"Arnold, the pod's been sitting in the snow for the last three or four days. It's probably too frozen to even putter around a golf course."

"I don't care! This is insane! I'm not staying in the middle of a smegging warzone! I'm getting the hell out of here!"

The Doctor could only watch in bewilderment as he continuing his forward march for the woods. Regaining his wits, he started chasing after him. "Arnold, wait a minute! It's not safe in there!"

Hearing the hurried footsteps behind, Rimmer decided to hurry up himself. He was experienced in running. Especially if he was running away from something. It was difficult to run away from a planet, but running away from some git in a purple coat and a bowtie was a bit more up his alley. He pounded his boots through the snow and made it to the trees, running around the maze. He stumbled across a few roots and ducked and weaved around them, trying to lose the Doctor. If he could just keep going for a few more…

Wait… a few more what?

He realized something a little important. He didn't remember where the escape pod was. He wasn't even sure which direction he'd been going in when he first arrived. Was this even the entrance to the woods he'd been taken through? He looked around. There was a flurry going on, so everything looked about the same as it had before. Cursing under his breath, he kept moving. He was going to find that damn pod.

"Arnold…?" The Doctor's voice reverberated in the distance behind him. He sounded far away. Good – that meant he wouldn't be interfering. Hopefully, he'd lose him, and then he'd be able to escape in peace.

Unfortunately, the deeper into the woods Rimmer went, the more uncertain he was about where he was going, and he began to have doubts about his grand plan. How was he going to get the pod going again? How was he going to do this? He didn't have any experience in such tasks. If ever there was a problem on _Starbug_ that required the mechanically-inclined, he usually delegated to Lister or Kryten. That's what you do when you're a leader. You make all the plans while the grunts to the footwork.

Except now, he didn't have any grunts. He was a leader without an army. He was his own grunt.

Cursing himself for not having taken a single electrician's course during his life – and that probably wouldn't have helped him anyway – he stumbled deeper into the woods for a few more minutes before leaning against a tree and gathering his thoughts. Nothing looked familiar anymore. He was lost. Again.

Then he remembered – his footprints. He could probably follow them back. The snow wasn't falling hard. He should be able to retrace his steps fairly easily.

But then he'd have to face the Doctor. He'd probably have to deal with the humiliation of having just run away from him only to have to run back. Freezing to death was preferable. Maybe he could avoid confronting him if he just listened carefully and tried to avoid him if he heard him. Just lay low until he'd gone past and escape that way. Nodding in satisfaction at his plan, he turned and began to head back.

Almost instantly, he heard movement to his left, and he almost immediately ducked back behind the tree, startled. He leaned against it and looked around, hoping whatever it had been was on the opposite side.

Peeking around, he waiting a good five minutes to ensure he was safe, and once he was feeling a bit confident, he turned to leave, and almost ran smackdab into the Doctor's grinning face. He let out a yelp and fell against the tree again.

"Lost?" the Doctor asked amiably.

Rimmer gasped for breath as he tried to get over the shock. He grasped the worry balls again and started grinding them determinedly, clutching his chest.

Recognizing the other man's distress, the Doctor went over to him. "What's wrong?"

Rimmer wheezed his answer. "… Don't… _do…_ that!"

The Doctor eyed his hand. "Chinese worry balls? What're those for?"

"For my stress, you maniac! I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown because of you and your stupid smegging gimboidiness!"

The Doctor blinked. "Oh. Okay, sorry." He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and began to scan the hologram up and down.

Rimmer eyed him warily. "What the hell are you doing now?"

"Running a software diagnostic. Just a minute." He finished scanning him and flicked it, causing the little prongs to spring out. He looked at something on the side and looked at him. "Your T-Count is through the roof."

"No kidding!"

"How are you even still operating with a flimsy system like that? You're only a Class One hologram. You don't even have any of the better software."

"I don't know. I don't care. I just want the hell out of here and back to my ship."

"Well, neither of us has a clue where your escape pod is, and it's probably half-buried in snow by now, so you might as well come back."

"And wait for Tasha whatshername to blast out of the sky?"

"She won't. Not while I'm here. You've got to learn to trust me, Arnold."

Rimmer gave him an icy glare. "There's no such thing as 'trust', Doctor. It's just something idealistic idiots like you and Lister believe in because you don't know how to survive. You're just setting yourself up for an early death if you keep relying on other people to do what you deem is the 'right' thing."

The Doctor looked at him for a long tense moment. For a moment, he didn't look like some young idiot with odd fashion tastes. He looked… old. Very old. It was almost as if he'd just aged several hundred years. It was almost enough to make Rimmer shrink back, but he was already up against a tree anyway. He just grinded the balls a little more.

"Come on," the Doctor said at last. "At least let's get out of the cold."

Rimmer glared at him and started to move when he heard something. It was that same noise from earlier. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes, I did. We need to get out of here."

They were just starting to leave when something appeared that made them to turn to look.

"Where the hell did that statue come from?"


	4. Trapped with the Angel

The Doctor stared at the statue in open shock, firmly putting a hand on Rimmer's shoulder to keep him in place. "Keep still. Don't blink."

"What?"

"Keep looking at it. Don't move."

"But what is it? Where'd it come from?"

"That's not a statue. It's a Weeping Angel."

"A what?"

"Quantum-locked being. It turns to stone as soon as someone's observing it. But if you so much as blink, they're so fast they can catch you."

Rimmer swallowed, hoping the fact that he was a hologram meant he could go longer without blinking. "And what happens when they catch you?"

"In my experience, one of two things. They either kill you outright, or they displace you in time."

"Displace you in time?"

"Yes, they can feed on temporal energy. They live off the potential timeline that might've been. And I don't have my TARDIS with me, so I couldn't pop back and rescue you, so we've got to keep it in our line of vision. So long as we're both looking at it, it should be safe to blink for now."

A zillion questions were zooming through Rimmer's mind, but he wasn't sure where to start, so he decided on something more immediate. "We need to do something. We can't just stand here in the snow forever. Pigeons will start to roost on all three of us!"

The Doctor's mind raced until he thought something. He knew it wasn't going to be pretty, but he had to do something to save them. "Okay… I think I've got a plan."

"Is it a good plan?"

"Possibly. I haven't finished thinking of it yet."

Rimmer grinded the worry balls a little more. His vision was beginning to blur.

"Okay… Arnold, I've got it. But it's not going to be nice."

"What is it?"

"The Angels can be trapped under anyone's gaze – even each other's. We've got one shot at this. I need a mirror."

"A mirror?"

"Yes, if the Angel sees its own reflection, it'll be trapped here. I need a decent-sized mirror to trap the angel."

If only the Cat were here, Rimmer thought ruefully. "Well, how can we get one?"

"Oh, there's bound to be someone in town who can lend us one."

"Okay… How do we get it without moving from this spot, genius?"

"Well, therein is the problem. I'm going to have to leave you here for a bit while I get one."

Rimmer's eyes widened but still didn't leave the Angel. "What?!"

"Don't worry. I'll come back."

"And how the hell do I know that?"

"Because you can trust me! I keep telling you!"

"No! I absolutely refuse! Besides, how the hell can I stand here for the long without blinking? I can't _not_ blink! It's hardwired into my body to blink!"

"Well, that's the bit I'm sorry about…"

"What?"

The Doctor wordlessly pulled out his sonic screwdriver and aimed it at Rimmer. His entire image froze, leaving him perpetually staring at the Weeping Angel, eyes fully aware but not blinking.

"Arnold, I'm sorry. I truly am. But the Angel needs to be neutralized before it has a chance to get to the town. Okay?"

Rimmer didn't respond. He couldn't. His mouth was frozen. He was essentially "paused". But it was working. The Angel registered him as looking at him, and it remained a statue.

The Doctor patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. "I'll be back. Fifteen minutes at most. I promise." And he turned and ran into the woods, back towards Christmas.

Rimmer was forced to stand there like a stupid scarecrow in the snow for a long time. It was hell. It was just completely hell dipped in hell with a little extra hell sprinkled on it for texture. This was like having root canals for each tooth independently. All he could do was stare at the stupid sodding statue and wonder how much longer it would take. He had no idea how long it was taking or what was happening behind him. Every noise he heard, he couldn't turn to look. For all he knew, he was surrounded by these Weeping Angels, and they had just been waiting for the Doctor to leave before they attacked.

The snow was once again piling on top of him. He wished he had some sort of body temperature, but he was just as cold as the statue in front of him. It too was becoming piled with snow, but it probably wasn't all that aware of its surroundings.

In fact… maybe it wasn't alive at all. Maybe it was just an ordinary statue he'd failed to notice and the Doctor was playing some sort of game with him. Yeah, that was it. The Doctor was playing a trick on him. He would be abandoned in the woods forever now, staring at this stupid statue. At least the statue would erode over time and decay into nothing. Rimmer's light bee would probably stay active until Lister and the others rescued him.

If they ever rescued him. He knew that for them, only hours would have passed and they'd be coming as fast as they could, but a lot can happen in a few hours. Maybe those ungrateful bastards were planning to just abandon him. Why bother saving him? They didn't like him. They didn't like his personality. They'd just as soon see him dead. Why shouldn't they? After all they had been through together, they were going to just abandon him when he needed them the most! How could anyone be so selfish?!

After all the crap we've gone through together, how the hell could I just abandon them like this?!

Wait… no… how could _they_ abandon _me_ …?

Rimmer mentally screamed in frustration. He needed to kick something. He needed a distraction from these thoughts. He had abandoned them out of a need to survive. Basic instinct. That's all there was to it. Nothing personal. Just recognizing that trying to save them would have probably gotten him killed. There was no point. To abandon _him_ would just be spiteful.

Spiting him because he abandoned them…

Oh shut up!

He was so lost in his thoughts he almost didn't notice the footsteps coming from behind him.

"… Good grief! What'd you do to him?"

The Doctor's voice now. "Sorry, yes. I told you I froze him. It was the only way. Now come on! Get everything in position!"

Rimmer couldn't even turn his eyes in his head, so he had to rely on peripheral vision to see what was happening. First, some men brought a large end table with two long poles on either end of it. Then some children came around and passed them a wide mirror, and they all worked together to latch it between the two poles, holding it up in front of the Angel.

The Doctor fastened it into place with his sonic screwdriver. "There! That's done it! Bravo, everyone!"

Everyone nodded in appreciation.

One child pulled on the Doctor's coat and pointed at Rimmer.

"Oh! Yes! Thank you, Tyrene! My fault!" He quickly aimed the sonic at Rimmer, and the hologram let out a yell of pain before collapsing on the ground, letting the snow that had piled on him fall off.

The Doctor quickly went to his side and tried to help him up. "Arnold, come on. Stay with me. Just keep calm. I know. Your blood pressure. Just take deep breaths. Grind the balls."

Rimmer gasped for breath, doing as he was told. He clutched the worry balls as tightly as he could, rubbing his chest as he allowed himself to be helped to his feet.

"Well done, Arnold," the Doctor said, patting him on the shoulder. "The Angel's trapped now! Not going anywhere!"

Rimmer just nodded, trying to get over the ordeal. It was getting difficult to see straight.

"Arnold, just calm down. It's going to be okay. You just need to release that stress. Maybe the balls aren't enough right now. Release that energy. Run around a bit. Do some power sit-ups? Maybe hit something…"

As if on cue, Rimmer suddenly rounded on the Doctor and punched him square in his square jaw. The bow-tied man went flying backwards and landed in the snow, having been caught off-guard. He rubbed his sore chin and looked up at the hologram, who was still breathing heavily but more or less stabilized. He squeezed the balls a few more times.

The people looked between them uncertainly, waiting to see if Rimmer did anything else. While they were concerned for the Doctor, they all had to silently admit – they'd probably have done the same thing his position.

The Doctor didn't look angry or surprised. In fact, he just nodded like he'd been expecting it. "… Better?"

Rimmer just savaged him with a glare.

"… No…?"

"…. You… just… left me there…"

"Arnold, I had to – "

"Like hell you did! Is this how you protect people? You endanger them so you can saunter off and be clever?! Well, I don't buy it! I don't care how a little twerp like you considers himself so high and mighty! Just stay the hell away from me and don't drag me into anymore of your ridiculous escapades!"

And on that note, he stormed off back towards the town, following the various footprints everyone had made.

The Doctor sat in the snow, watching him leave and nursing his chin, feeling particularly low. He knew he'd only done what he'd done for Arnold's own protection and the protection of the town, but he had to admit that he could've gone about it a bit differently.

Whatever the case, he knew that any hope of making progress with the stubborn hologram had been set back considerably.

* * *

The Doctor ended up not seeing Rimmer again for several days.

The hologram had locked himself in his room in the clock tower, and as he didn't require food or drink or trips to the loo, he didn't need to leave at all. The door was locked, and the Doctor didn't feel it right to try and open it. He'd knocked a few times, but he never got a reply, so he decided to give the other man his space. Instead, he'd spent time acclimatizing himself to Christmas.

The people of the town were very friendly. He decided to get to know them by arranging the odd gathering once a week. A weekly meal wherein they could talk, get to know each other, and more importantly, discuss the dangers that were going to be descending on them soon. These were a very loving and peaceful people – something the Doctor greatly admired. The thought of having to turn these people into a gang of soldiers didn't appeal to him at all. He had to find a way of helping develop some fighting skills while still maintaining their principles. He didn't have a lot of experience in this field. His usual shtick was "show up, take a side, help that side and, after winning, leave them to figure out a new way of life". It wasn't a bad way of doing things. It ensured that the people were given a chance to stand on their own two feet rather than telling them how to live. Now that he was staying, he was going to have to do a lot more directing than he was used to.

Still, it wasn't all bad. There were plenty of children here. They cheered him up considerably. He didn't know what it was about children in this incarnation of his, but he found he was particularly fluent in "child" in a way his previous selves hadn't quite mastered. There were plenty of boys and girls of various ages that he enjoyed playing with. They had simple games that he was rarely any good at, but they appreciated his effort and were willing to teach him.

Despite his growing bond with the townspeople, he still worried about Rimmer. As days turned to weeks, he refused to leave his room. He had no idea how to approach him. The hologram's personality was so disagreeable he wasn't sure how to approach him. It had only taken a few minutes of talking to him to realize he was a complete jobsworth with an obsessive love for order and regulation. A man with a huge ego without the skill or ability to back it up. What made it worse was that there didn't seem to be anything particularly redeeming about him. He was just so convinced he was better than everyone else that he couldn't be bothered to consider the possibility that he might be wrong about something.

Knowing all of this, the Doctor knew there had to be something decent deep down inside of him. Something that hadn't received any attention and needed something to kick it going. He just didn't know how to proceed, and he still had the matter of looking after Christmas to consider.

So he decided that at some point, Rimmer would either get over what had happened or grow bored enough that he left his room. He had to think of something.

Rimmer had spent the first few days curled up in a ball on his bed, grinding the worry balls for hours on end. Then, once he felt like he was getting arthritis, he switched himself to soft-light so he could stop feeling anything, particularly the cold. It helped to calm him down, keep him from grinding his teeth into a find powder.

Soon, before he even realized it, an entire week had gone by. He figured he should go out and do something, but that would entail having to face the Doctor, and he was supposed to be angry with him, so he stayed. He was determined to make that little gimp come crawling to him, all ashamed and apologetic and begging for forgiveness. He could wait. He was a hologram. He didn't need anything.

Except, he'd been here for over a week now, and he needed some kind of stimulus. He'd switched himself back to hard-light so he could find something to do. He'd found a nail and started carving into the stone floor a few crude doodles. That had always been his way of doing things when life slowed down too much for his attention span. Start doodling. It was probably part of the reason why he never did well in school, constantly distracted by his doodles, but it was helping him here.

Soon, another week had gone by, and the nail he'd been using had been ground down into a stub. Just as well, he figured. The entire room was like a massive mosaic of his scrawls. Time to find something else to do. Maybe he could build himself a window so he could escape without the Doctor seeing, complete with a large camouflaged shade that would blend in with the wall. He could Shawshank his way out of here.

Trouble was, the only thing he had to possibly do this with was the nail, which had been ground down to nothing.

Sighing to himself, he slumped against the wall, reflecting that at least he felt relaxed.

He was just about to nod off into yet another nap when he was jolted awake by a knock on the door. Momentarily startled, he just stared at it in a stupor. Then he realized – someone was knocking. Someone was looking for him. The Doctor had finally decided to apologize properly.

Rimmer smirked. Time to load up the smarm. He'd get the floppy haired git looking like a pathetic idiot in no time. Getting to his feet, he smartened himself up and took five great strides to the door. Flaring his nostrils smugly, he put his hand on the handle and pulled it open, and he was promptly disappointed.

It wasn't the Doctor. It was a boy. He was carrying a tray with some food on it.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"Tyrene, sir," the boy said. "I was one of the ones that brought the mirror two weeks ago. Remember?"

"Yes, I _certainly_ remember that rotten…," he started, but then he came up short. "Did you say two weeks?"

"Yes, sir."

Rimmer leaned against the doorframe. "No wonder I've almost gone insane… Where the hell's the Doctor?"

"Outside somewhere."

"Did he send you?"

"No, sir."

"… What the hell are you here for?"

Tyrene held up the plate. "I thought you might like something to eat."

Rimmer shook his head. "I'm a hologram. I don't eat."

"Are you sure? My mum made it. She's a really good cook."

Rimmer eyed the food. Looked like some kind of poultry with some fruit on the side. He didn't feel hunger like humans did, but he had to admit, he missed the sensation sometimes. Sighing heavily, he took the plate and fiddled with the provided fork. He shuffled awkwardly. He wanted to slam the door angrily, but… well, the kid just looked so damned innocent and genuine.

"Thank you," he said awkwardly.

"You're welcome, Mr…," he trailed off.

"Rimmer. Arnold Rimmer."

"You're welcome, Mr. Rimmer!"

Nodding, the hologram carried the plate over to his chair, putting it in his lap and starting in on it. He took a few nibbles. He nodded in affirmation. "You're right. She _is_ good."

Tyrene beamed. "I know." Then he looked around the room, noticing all the drawings that had been carved into the walls, floor and even the ceiling, and looked at him with concern. "Why have you been in here for two weeks, sir?"

"Because I'm angry."

"Can you really be angry for two whole weeks?"

Rimmer gave him a look. "I've been angry my entire life."

Tyrene shuffled a bit. "Are you ever happy?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

Rimmer chewed a little harder. "Because life is terrible."

"That's not what my parents. They say that life is a treasure, and we get out of it what we put into it."

Rimmer looked at him like he was speaking Chinese. "Well, far be it from me to speak against your parents, but…," he began, but he trailed off, remembering the plate in his lap and the innocent expression on the boy's face, and he decided to bite his tongue. "Never mind," he said quickly, conscious of the truth field.

Tyrene stood in the doorway for a moment before clearing his throat. "Where did you come from, sir?"

Rimmer sighed. "I came from another universe, I think. The Doctor said I was, but he's a raving lunatic, so I wouldn't take what he says seriously."

"You don't like the Doctor, do you?"

"No."

"Why not? He's very nice."

"He's an idiot in a bowtie."

"He still nice to us. He's helping our friends and neighbors."

"Yeah, he's got you lot railroaded into a war of his own making."

"I know. But he's still trying to help us."

Rimmer scoffed. "Some help. What's a purple git like him doing to run a war? Making sure all of you wear bowties? Growing your hair into a quiff long enough to whip the enemy in the eye?"

"He's been showing how to us protect ourselves. He's put up a bell in the town square so we can call him when something comes into the town."

"And what's his strategy? You tell him something's coming, and then what?"

"He said we call him, and he'll deal with it."

"… What, that's it?"

Tyrene shrugged. "He said it was all we would need for now."

"Why?"

"He said all the monsters above us were all too scared to go first."

"What, of him?"

"No, of the message."

"What message?"

"The one coming through the crack in the wall."

Rimmer sat up a little straighter. "Yes… what's that crack?"

"I don't know, but the Doctor said the truth field was coming through it. You'll have to ask him about it."

"I can't. I'm still not speaking to him."

"Why not? He saved you."

"He _abandoned_ me. He froze me in position, unable to move, unable to run, he just left me there."

"He came back. He brought help. I think if he could've thought of a better way, he'd have done it. He's too nice to just leave someone on purpose."

Rimmer glared at him as he finished the food. "He didn't even tell me he was going to do it. He just left me there."

Tyrene shuffled a bit before walking closer to him, looking up to him with his large innocent eyes. "He didn't leave you. He was just… doing what he had to do."

"What he had to do?"

"Sure, so he could save everyone. I mean, he wouldn't be so mean as to abandon everyone when they needed him most."

Rimmer winced. Without realizing it, Tyrene had it that tender spot on his miniscule conscience. The kid was so earnest it hurt. He couldn't help but wonder what the kid had done to become so empathic.

Sighing heavily, he passed the empty plate back to him and stood up. "Right. Fine. I'll go talk to him."

Tyrene smiled, showing he had a tooth missing. It was oddly charming.

Mentally tucking away his pride, Rimmer walked out the door. Time for some answers.


	5. Chatting in the Basement

Rimmer came downstairs into the basement and found the room mostly empty. There was still that crack glowing in the wall like a crooked ethereal smile. Curious, he went a little closer and squinted into the light that was coming through it, trying to see what the source was. It was too bright to see anything.

Rubbing his eyes, he turned away and once again found himself face-to-face with the disembodied robot head. "Oh, it's you… er… 'Handles', right?"

"Affirmative," the head replied.

"Right, well… where's he gone, then? The Doctor?"

"He did not specify. It is believed he has 'stepped out'."

Rimmer rolled his eyes. He didn't want to deal with the town right now, so he settled for sitting down in one of the chairs. He settled into it, silently conceding that the head was less annoying than Kryten at least. He took in the bare walls of the room, appreciating the silence.

Still, he couldn't help but shake the feeling the crack was giving him. It felt like something was coming through it. Something that made him feel all kinds of uneasy.

Looking to the head once again, he spoke up. "What's that crack?"

"It is a crack in the skin of reality," Handles replied in his electronically fluctuating voice.

"… It's a what?"

"It is a crack in the skin of reality," Handles repeated dutifully.

"How can reality have a crack?"

"It is the result of an explosion so powerful that it split reality itself."

Rimmer looked at the crack again. "So… the universe has a crack in it?"

There was a creaking sound from behind him, making him jump, and he saw the Doctor was coming down the spiral staircase. "There were once many cracks, Arnold," he explained. "Now there's only the one."

Rimmer stared up at him, pulling out the worry balls and giving them a good grind.

"Still feeling tense?" the Doctor asked, slipping off his heavy coat and slinging it on another chair.

"You need to start wearing a bell," Rimmer grunted. He leaned against the wall as he began to relax again.

The Doctor simply tutted and sat down. "You're so tight," he remarked, reaching over and picking up Handles, hefting him in his hands. "What do you think of him, Handles?"

Handles whirred for a moment before responding. "Type One hologram, heavily-modified, hard-light drive – "

"No, no, I mean his personality."

"Personality is irrelevant."

"Oh, come on. He's not _that_ bad."

Rimmer glared at him. "I don't have to take this, you know. Little twerp like you should respect your elders."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "I'm over twelve hundred years old. Compared to me, you're still pre-natal."

Rimmer sneered. "You really expect me to believe that?! You look ten!"

"My people have ways of weathering the ravages of eternity."

"Your 'people'?"

"I'm not human, Arnold. I'm a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey."

It took a few moments before Rimmer's brain properly processed that statement. He looked the other man up and down, slowly realizing the implications. "You're… You mean… you're an alien?"

"In your terms, yes. In my terms, _you're_ an alien."

"But… you look human!"

"No, you look Time Lord. There's a lot of humanoid life in the universe." He held out his arm. "Here. Check the pulse."

Rimmer raised an eyebrow but figured it was safe enough. He went as close as he dared and placed his fingers on the Doctor's wrist, feeling like you always do for a pulse – or as close as he knew how. He felt the distinct heartbeat. Then the Doctor took his hand and moved it to the other side, and to the hologram's surprise…

"… That can't be right."

"It's true."

"No…"

"Cross my hearts."

Rimmer looked the Doctor in the eye, and now that he was properly looking, he saw just how incredibly _old_ they were. Just how ancient and tired and sparkly… He felt his jaw drop a little, and his arm fell limply to his side.

"You're an alien."

The Doctor waved a little. "Hello!"

Realizing the weight of the revelation, Rimmer took a step back, and then he did what he'd always wanted to do when he met an alien. He immediately got down on his knees and bowed down. "Oh, how might I serve you, my extra-terrestrial brother? As an ambassador of the moon Io of the planet Jupiter, I humbly offer peace and friendship!"

The Doctor stared at him in bemusement before tapping him on the shoulder. "Yeah, okay, great. Whatever. You're embarrassing yourself."

It took a few moments for Rimmer to realize this hadn't gone as he'd expected. He'd finally met an alien, and what had he done? Insulted him, yelled at him, avoided him and basically acted like a child toward him. The humiliation built up inside of him, starting out as a slow burn as he looked up at the Doctor, who hadn't even moved from his chair. It intensified until he put his fist in his mouth and screamed silently.

The Doctor tapped him with his foot. "Stop that. You'll hurt your fist."

But Rimmer was embarrassed at this point he didn't care. He just fell on his side and covered his face pathetically.

It was getting to be too much for the Doctor. "Arnold, for heaven's sake. It's not that big a deal."

"Oh, just leave me to die in peace…," Rimmer groaned from behind his hands.

"You're already dead. Knock it off."

The hologram just remained on the floor, rocking back and forth, consoling his once-again bruised ego.

Not sure if he was actually pitying him or not, the Doctor decided to just continue. "The cracks were all resealed a long time ago, but the scar tissue remained, and my people are trapped on the other side. That's why no one here can lie. The Time Lords are transmitting the truth field so as to determine whether or not it's safe to come through – if I say my name, they'll know I'm really here and welcoming them through."

Rimmer looked up, his curiosity overriding his humiliation. "… Why do they need your permission?"

"Because there's half the universe in orbit around the planet waiting to open fire should they try. They need to know if it's safe to return."

"Why's half the universe out to destroy them?"

The Doctor closed his eyes, looking as if he was remembering something very painful. Still, he steeled his resolve and spoke. "There was… a war… The Last Great Time War, fought between my people and a race called the Daleks."

"The Daleks?"

"Mutants that live in miniature armored tanks. You'll probably meet them at some point. They're up there, too."

"Oh, joy of joys, more murderous mutants," Rimmer grumbled. "Been there, survived that, bought the t-shirt."

"I highly doubt you've met anything like the Daleks."

"Probably not, but what I don't get is how you're going to be a one-man army for these people. That boy said you were planning to take on those aliens yourself."

The Doctor nodded. "It's my fault they're here. I owe it to them."

"So why not just whip these people up into an army? Train them? Take control of the workforce? That's what a real leader would do! A real leader would sit on the hilltop in the white tent sipping wine and directing the battle, not run about the battlefield on his own waving a glowy screwdriver around!"

The Doctor regarded him. "So you take the coward's path?"

Rimmer balked. "It's the _honorable_ path! You don't understand how it works – officers are in charge, and when you're in charge, you delegate! You let some other sucker do the task of running around getting blown up while you do the difficult task of planning the battles and having the glory!"

"Arnold, I'm quickly getting the impression you don't know anything about how war actually works."

"Hey, I've played RISK hundreds of times!"

"That's a board game!"

"A _very intense_ board game!"

The Doctor rubbed his eyes, quickly getting tired of this idiot. "You haven't had to live through any serious conflict in your entire life. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you strike me as the type who can't bear the thought of doing anything wrong, so he shifts the blame to others so you don't have to face the possibility that you wasted your entire life. Is that about the size of it?"

Rimmer almost opened his mouth to deny it, but then he glanced at the crack in the wall and kept his lips sealed. Unfortunately, this only furthered the Time Lord's contempt.

"I see… Never fought in war. Probably couldn't lead men in a line dance, let alone into battle."

Rimmer glared. "Oh, and I suppose you could do a better job?"

The Doctor simply leaned back in his chair, suspecting where this was going. "I've fought in a war. The Last Great Time War. And I led people into battle where they died pointlessly. I saw my people fall and burn, children screaming in pain, blood pouring, smelt the ash in the air, saw the fall of society, and I never _once_ rolled any dice."

Rimmer was about to sneer, but the look in the Doctor's eyes told him not to.

"Anyway, the war was waged for centuries. And I tried to avoid it, because I couldn't bring myself to fight. I mean, I tried to help people caught in the crossfire, but I refused to fight. In the end, I became a warrior so I could find a way to end it."

"You became a warrior?" Rimmer interrupted.

The Doctor smiled sadly. "I met a gun fighter named Cass. Her ship was crashing. She was so brave, teleported out the rest of the crew while she stayed behind sending a distress signal. I came to help her, and she rejected me once she found out I was a Time Lord. And she died because of it. It was as if the universe itself had rejected me. Everything I stood for – it didn't matter anymore because all of time and space was burning. I had to end it. And in the end, I couldn't find another way… I thought I would have to press a button and destroy all my people – my entire planet – just so it could end."

The weight of those words had reduced Rimmer to absolute silence. The horror of the idea – it genuinely froze him with a fear unlike any he'd ever felt before.

But the Doctor smiled again. "But then… I found a way. It took a lot of work, but I managed to save my people instead of destroy them. And that's why they're on the side of that crack – I put them there to protect them and to save the universe. The rest of the universe is up there waiting to start that all over again. All that pain and misery and destruction – it will start again ten times worse than before, because it's not just the Daleks this time. _Everyone_ is up there. And they don't want a universe with Time Lords in it."

Rimmer swallowed. "So… you're just going to fight them all off yourself?"

"Well, not completely by myself. I can call on the Mother Superious for help."

"Mother Superious…? Oh, you mean that Tasha woman in the floating church? She's on our side?"

"Sort of. She's really got her own side, but she has an army that could help us in a pinch if need be."

"And what happens if one of the aliens kills you and destroys the church? What happens then?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Well, the hostile life forces will swarm the planet, destroy it and all the people in an attempt to destroy the crack, which will most likely fail since the crack isn't actually in the wall itself…"

Rimmer hefted the worry balls in hand and let this new information sink in. "I can't even imagine…," he said quietly.

Sensing that things were turning to a more favorable conversation, the Doctor seized his chance. "So go on then – that's _my_ story, or at least the relevant bit. What about you? Born on Io and…?"

Rimmer looked uncomfortable, but he had to admit – the Doctor had just confided in him, so he clearly trusted him. The idea that someone actually trusted him was weird, but he figured he could deal with it. Still, the idea that he wouldn't be able to lie about his past terrified him. It meant he was going to have accept that all his walls were down.

"… My father was a half-crazed ex-military failure, and my mother was a bitch-queen from Hell."

The Doctor blinked. "… That's as good a place as any to start."

"… My father wanted to join the Space Corps, but they wouldn't take him because he was one inch below regulation height. One inch! My whole life could've been completely different for _one inch_!"

"One inch. With you," the Doctor replied, simply nodding.

"So he bought a stretching rack, and my three brothers and I were always put on the rack. Stretched every day. And if we hadn't grown – back on the rack. And Mother didn't care. She was too busy bonking the brains out of every single male human on the moon. And my brothers – _they_ got all the good looks, the lucky breaks and raced their way up the ziggurat, becoming captains and test pilots and got all their love and respect, while I struggled through every single exam and never got off the bottom rung, spending my days as a vending machine operative!"

Rimmer didn't realize until that moment that he'd started yelling. It wasn't the first time he'd gone on a rant about his failed life, but he still felt the intense anger it caused him.

The Doctor had just sat there, cradling Handles like a pet cat and nodding along with the story. "Squeeze the balls, Arnold," he said.

Rimmer grinded the balls, not to mention his teeth, and fought to continue talking. "And then… I joined the mining ship _Red Dwarf_ … I joined a Third Technician and only made it as far as a Second Technician. Fourteen year on that smegging ship, and I only made it _one rank_! Every time I took the Astro-Navigation exam, I failed it. Every single time. The only medals I have are my long service medals. The only man I was ever in charge of was Dave Lister, the slobbiest imbecile in the universe, and it's just by fluke that _he's_ spared the cadmium II leak, and _I_ snuff it age thirty-one, reduced to an electronic ghost, forced to wander around, trying to maintain my position as senior officer on the ship, except nobody _cares_ I'm in charge – they always go to _Lister_ for help or _Kryten_ – the _cleaning droid_ – for command decisions! _I'm_ the one who should be in charge! Me! And yet _I'm_ the one who's always getting pushed around, insulted, mocked, derided and forced to go along with their _ridiculous plans_ – always have to go with the caveman instinct! Always have to go running in to danger just to power the ship or replenish supplies! We only ever beat the GELFs and Simulants because chance and circumstance always save us! _What the hell is so wrong with running away?!_ "

By now, his flared nostrils were only a few inches away from the Doctor's. They looked at each other for a long time.

"… Is that why you're here, Arnold? Because you ran away?"

Rimmer's expression sagged. How the hell did he do that? How did this square-jawed goit always somehow manage to get under his skin like this?

"I ran because…," he started, but then he stopped. The truth field was in his head.

He'd only been able to say everything up until now because he didn't think he was lying. He honestly believed everything he'd just said. The Doctor could tell – the truth field couldn't override self-delusion.

Rimmer swallowed. He'd come this far. He tried again. "I ran because… I'm a selfish, cowardly, gutless, gormless idiot who was too scared to even try and save my own crewmates."

"Save them from what?"

"A rogue simulant – basically a cyborg that hates all humans. We'd blown them up, and Lister was insisting that we raid their destroyed ship for supplies. Turns out there was one still onboard, injured and twice as deranged. It had the others cornered, but it didn't see me. I could've destroyed it with a bazookoid, but… I couldn't do it. It would've tried to kill me, so the only logical thing to do was jump in the nearest escape pod and run."

The Doctor raised a nonexistent eyebrow. "The only 'logical' thing to do?"

"Well, come on! What was the point in endangering myself?"

"You weren't in any danger. You could've saved them."

Rimmer walked away from him, unable to answer. He just stood near the opposite wall, glaring at it.

The Doctor continued. "Arnold, I'm not condemning the idea of running away from danger. In most cases, that's actually a very useful method. But to abandon the only people in your life when you had an opportunity to help them… What would you have done if they'd been killed and you'd gotten away with no wormhole to escape through? Where would you have gone? What would you have done?"

Rimmer stood with his arms crossed, determined not to speak, because he knew he'd have to face the fact that the Doctor was right. Everything he said was true, and that was making it harder for him to delude himself that he was guilt free. He'd really done it. He'd really abandoned them.

It wasn't like they were friends. Not even close. They were just three gits he happened to know and was trapped on a ship with. But he could still remember all the times they'd come back for him. The time he stole Lister's body and crashed _Starbug_ with it. The time they'd gotten him out of the Justice Zone. The psi moon. The holo-virus. For one reason or another, they never abandoned him. And he was always set to ditch them at the slightest provocation. He could remember a time when the thought of Lister dying horribly delighted him to no end. He told himself it was bitterness at the fact he was dead while the other got to live, but on some level, he knew it was ridiculously horrible of him.

He heard the sound of the Doctor getting up from his chair behind him, and he braced himself for whatever came next, and he was surprised when a firm hand clasped him on the shoulder.

"Arnold, listen. I'm in no position to judge you. No one is. Only you get to decide what to do. I need you to understand, though. Those creatures up in the sky could descend at any time. We need to be ready to fight back. I might need your help. I won't force you to do anything, but it would be very good if you would help out whenever you can."

Rimmer was still reeling from his own introspection, so he didn't respond right away. After a moment, he glanced at the Doctor and simply nodded. Seeing the floppy-haired git smile appreciatively gave him enough strength to turn and leave via the spiral staircase. He needed some air.

Once he made it to the double doors of the tower, he stepped out into the cold and took in the town, still lit up with fairie lights. He knew he would have to get used to this place. Might as well go for a walk around a bit. He was just coming down the steps when he heard tiny hurried footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Tyrene running up to him.

"Mr. Rimmer!" he called out, out of breath. "My mum made something for you!"

Rimmer raised an eyebrow. "Your mum?"

"Yes! Because you said you liked her cooking!"

But he was still suspicious. "What is it?"

The boy held up the item in question. To Rimmer's surprise, it was a scarf. A simple dark grey scarf made of clearly itchy wool with tassels on the end. He was tempted to turn it away, but a sudden gust of wind came down the street, and it made him shiver. Deciding he'd been cold enough for a few weeks, he decided to swallow his pride and take the garment. He looped it once around his neck, and right away, he felt better.

"Do you like it, sir?" Tyrene asked.

"Yes, well… Thank you… boy. It's very nice. Yes… very nice… What's your name again?"

"Tyrene, sir."

"Tyrene. Well, Tyrene miladdo, it's… very nice. Your mother's… very good at this."

"I know. She loves taking care of people. Would you like to meet her?"

"Oh, er… Well…," he fumbled, trying to find an excuse not to, but the boy's eyes were so innocent and disarming that he couldn't bring himself to, and he felt something crumble away. "Certainly."

"Great! She lives up here! Come on!"

Tyrene grabbed him by the hand and practically dragged him away. Rimmer couldn't help but smile slightly as his energy.

As they hurried away, they didn't see the Doctor standing on the steps to the tower, leaning against the open door with an amused expression. He watched them depart around the corner and thought back to a little red-haired girl and wondered if the hologram's digital heart could be just as easily melted as his own pair had once been.


End file.
